Watching
by A Darker Heaven
Summary: Detective Greg Lestrade decides to stay with his boyfriend and his flat mate in 221B Baker Street while his apartment is being fumigated. Things get weird when Sherlock begins to sneak into their bed at night.


**Title:** Watching (1/1)  
**Authors:** A Darker Heaven  
**Fandom:** Sherlock (TV)  
**Pairing:** Lestrade/John/Sherlock, Lestrade/John  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** Slash  
**Spoilers:** Seasons one and two  
**Word Count: **4,263  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours. The characters of Sherlock belong to BBC and Gatiss/Moffat.  
**Summary:** Detective Greg Lestrade decides to stay with his boyfriend and his flat mate in 221B Baker Street while his apartment is being fumigated. Things get weird when Sherlock begins to sneak into their bed at night.  
**A/N:** This story was originally written as an RPG, which explains any shifty POV's. This chapter is not beta read.

For once in his life, Gregory Lestrade was content. After all, his divorce would be finalized any day now and his career (thanks to a certain mad consulting detective) was actually going well. And thanks to that same detective he had his current fuck buddy, Dr. John Watson.

When Greg first met John, he might admit that he only noticed him because Sherlock was so interested in him. It wasn't until a little bit later that he began to realize his own attraction to the doctor.

He remembered secretly watching Sherlock and John talk together at a crime scene. Sherlock was whispering quietly and leaning in close and John was tilting his head towards him. Both men were overwhelmingly _fascinated_ with one another. Later, Greg gathered the nerve to ask John out for a pint and he had agreed with a shy smile.

John's shyness didn't carry on into the bedroom. In fact, he was the most enthusiastic lover Greg had ever had. They always went back to Greg's place, and if Sherlock knew they were fucking, he remained suspiciously quiet about it.

Their relationship was without strings until Greg needed a place to stay when his apartment was being fumigated. John, being the genuinely kind person that he was, offered he stay in the flat he shared with Sherlock. Greg accepted, thinking it would only be a few days. Yet he began to enjoy living with John. He was surprised how easily their relationship took the next step, and when he got a call saying it was safe to return back to his apartment, he decided there was no hurry to go back.

Greg smiled and nestled closer to the warm body beside him. It was nice waking up to someone. The past few weeks staying at 221B Baker Street had been trying (mainly because of John's mad flatmate), but waking up like this was worth it. His arm tightened around his lover's waist and he pressed a lazy kiss to the back of his neck, his blonde hair tickling his nose. His morning erection was suddenly insistent and he remembered with delight that John should still be wet and open from last night's activities. It wasn't until his hands began migrating south down his lover's body that he realized John felt… different.

Years of being on the force and having nerves of steel was the only thing that kept Greg from jumping out of bed with a yelp when he opened his eyes to the sight of Sherlock curled up with his arm wrapped possessively around John's waist.

How he had gotten into the room without either of them waking, Greg had no idea. The worst of it all was that he would have liked to have been able to say this was the first time, but something very similar had happened the first night he stayed over.

In the early morning hours of that first night, Greg had woken to find Sherlock crawling _out_ of the bed. He knew he should have called him out on it then, but he didn't want to make more waves than he already had and he was pretty sure John didn't know about their nighttime visitor. Greg just assumed that Sherlock had what Mycroft had called a 'danger night' and snuck in to be safe.

But to find him there again was ridiculous. Sherlock hadn't bothered to escape this time before morning and Greg knew he had to put his foot down before this became more of a habit. He poked Sherlock sharply in the ribs and the other man's unearthly colored eyes shot open and glared at him.

Greg pointed at the door in an effort not to wake John with his demands. Sherlock, being Sherlock, first just gave Greg a stubborn look. But when the older man raised an eyebrow, Sherlock sighed quietly and finally got off the bed in a move way too graceful for that early in the morning.

John didn't stir. Greg's eyes narrowed at Sherlock who just looked smug as he sauntered out the bedroom door. At least he had pants on. Greg resisted the urge to throw a pillow at him on his way out.

When Sherlock was gone, Greg rolled closer to John and kissed his neck in an attempt to wake him. John squirmed against his lover and arched his sore body into his. Without opening his eyes, he smiled softly and pressed his morning erection against his older lover.

Greg moaned but he was determined not to be distracted. "John, we have to talk about your flat mate," he whispered.

John thought that was strange. "Why? I don't think you want to," he mumbled, his hand sliding down to grasp Greg between his legs.

Greg took a sharp intake of breath and thrust into his hand before he gained control over himself. "He was in bed with us... when I woke up. And I caught him a couple weeks ago crawling out of it."

John instantly stopped and removed his hand. "_What?_" he hissed.

"I woke up and he was curled around you like a leech!" Greg insisted. "He left when I woke him. I had to practically kick him out, though."

John sat up and stared down at his lover as if he still didn't believe him. "Are you sure it wasn't a dream? We were kind of drunk last night..." he asked hopefully.

That was true, but Greg knew it happened and he knew it wasn't the first time. "I thought he was you at first," the detective admitted, "I mean, this bed isn't very big… we were crammed in here like sardines and it was defiantly him."

John shook his head in denial. He hated how it was killing his mood. He had been looking forward to a pleasant, lazy morning-after with his boyfriend that involved morning sex and then pancakes. "Every time I think I have him figured out... he does something like this," John sighed, "Why didn't you tell me before, then?"

"Well, that first night I wasn't sure if it really happened. But this morning there was no doubting it. And the way he slid out of here so smoothly without waking you... I'd wager it wasn't his first visit," Greg said. "You really had no idea?"

"No," John whispered as he laid back down next to his lover. "And I don't know why he did it."

"We should just ignore it. He's like a five year old seeking attention," Greg decided suddenly.

John nodded, because there was no arguing that. But the weirdest thing about it was that he felt oddly turned on even when he knew he should be creeped out that his flat mate had snuck into bed with him and his lover in the middle of the night.

He slid on top of Greg and straddled his waist. "Does that mean we should continue what we were going to do?"

Greg raised an eyebrow at how easily John shrugged the incident off, but then again, he had probably experienced stranger things with Sherlock. "Or maybe we should talk to him about boundaries."

John let out a frustrated growl and pushed himself away from the other man. He gave up on the morning sex he had been looking forward to. "He doesn't understand boundaries and never will," the doctor grumbled as he grabbed a t-shirt and boxer briefs from the floor.

Greg frowned at John's reaction. "John, does Sherlock fancy you?"

John turned back to give Lestrade a sharp glare. "No, of course not," he insisted, but he tried to keep emotion out of his tone. "He made that very clear from the beginning. He is incapable of fancying anyone."

"Flatmates don't sneak into each others beds unless one fancies the other, John," Greg sighed as he ran a hand through his short grey hair. "I know Sherlock is a bit… odd, but if you were on the outside of this situation, you would think he liked you, too." After all, Greg had seen the way Sherlock looked at John. It was the reason he had noticed him in the first place.

"I suppose if I knew nothing about him then yes, I would, but I _do _know him," the ever so loyal doctor said, but he knew it still wasn't enough to convince his lover. "Why? Are you jealous?" he asked, suddenly curious.

Greg opened and closed his mouth in a sudden conflict of what to say. He thought about how he had felt when he woke up to find Sherlock asleep beside John. Jealously hadn't been a feeling he had experienced. "No, actually I'm not," he said, surprising himself. He braced himself for John's anger, not knowing if it had been the right thing to say. But the other man only snickered as he turned to walk towards the door.

Greg smiled and shook his head as he watched him walk out of the room. He only waited a few seconds before he stood out of the bed, wrapped a bed sheet around his middle, and followed John downstairs to the apartment's only bathroom.

John had already stripped back down to nothing and had begun running the shower when he heard his lover come in. He said nothing as he stepped under the water, knowing Greg would follow.

When he did, Greg stepped in behind the shorter man and wrapped his arms around his waist. John tended to try and hide himself under bulky jumpers and heavy jackets, but the truth was that there was nothing for him to hide. John was well sculpted, muscled, and toned. His body had suffered and had toughened. He had a soldier's body. Greg could never take his hands off of it.

"Only you would chuckle at this situation."

John allowed his boyfriend's arms around him but did not return the embrace. "I was laughing because you're not jealous," he told him plainly.

"I guess I'm not jealous because Sherlock doesn't...well, you know," Greg said, slowly massaging John's shoulders.

"We shouldn't even be speaking of him while we're naked in the shower together," John tried to change the subject quickly as he closed his eyes and leaned back against Greg.

"Your right, I'm sorry," Greg admitted as his hands wandered down to John's half hard cock. "But..." he hesitated, not sure what his lover's reactions would be, "you two did look gorgeous wrapped up in each other."

John was taken completely off guard with the shiver than ran through him when he heard those words. Without thinking about what it might mean, he turned in Greg's arms and pressed his own back against the wall, dragging his lover to him and kissing him hard. The detective moaned into the kiss and pushed the other man further against the wall.

A half-hour later, John's legs still felt weak when he made eggs for both his flatmate and his lover. He tried not to think of anything at all as he carried the plates to the men at the table, knowing they could both otherwise read him like a book.

"I'm neither of your house wives. I'm not doing the dishes," he said sternly.

"Of course not, we will take care of that. Right, Sherlock?" Greg nudged him roughly, but Sherlock didn't look up from the newspaper he was hiding behind. He was ignoring both the eggs and the other occupants on the room. Greg raised an eyebrow in John's direction.

John noticed and gave an angry glance towards the newspaper hiding Sherlock's face. He didn't have to see to know that he was brooding about something. "And what the hell is wrong with you?" John asked Sherlock bluntly as he sat down next to Greg. Sherlock's hands on the paper tensed, but he still didn't put it down.

"Shouldn't Lestrade be able to move back into his apartment now?" the deep, smooth voice from behind the newspaper asked.

John furrowed his brows in confusion and shot Greg a helpless look. "He… can't yet."

That was when Greg decided to finally say something. "Sherlock, you haven't said one word to me since I started spending the night. A man's feelings could be hurt over something like that," he smirked teasingly and snatched the paper right out of Sherlock's hands, tearing it in the process. "Eat your eggs."

Sherlock fumed. If looks could kill, Greg would be dead on the spot.

John suddenly stopped chewing and froze as if one more move could trigger both of them into a fight. Their glares locked and unblinking, John soon grew uncomfortable with the intensity of the face off across his breakfast table. He glanced over at Sherlock and gently eased a steaming mug closer to him. "At least drink your tea, Sherlock," he spoke softly.

Sherlock finally looked away from Greg to glare at John and his eyes softened as he took the tea. Greg waited until he had taken a sip before he asked John, "I'm thinking of taking a vacation soon, will you join me?"

John was startled and fumbled for an answer. "I... I don't know. Where?" he asked, but he really wanted to ask why.

Sherlock's tea cup crashed to the floor. He suddenly stood and loomed over Greg. "You aren't taking him anywhere!" His tone was on the edge of violence.

The truth was that John was not interested in a vacation. Greg is a good man, that wasn't the reason. In fact, Greg is the only _good man_ John had ever been with. He is handsome and loving and sexy, but John is not the vacationing type. Greg lives for his vacations, his little getaways, his tropical adventures. But John lives for those quiet evenings at home spent curled in a blanket with hot chocolate and his favorite show on the telly.

Despite all this, John was suddenly outraged at Sherlock. "What I do on my own time is my own business, Sherlock! And it's not like I'll be gone forever!"

Sherlock turned his glare to John. He couldn't believe he had taken Greg's side in this. "You can't go anywhere. What if I have a case!?" he yelled.

"I never said I was going anywhere, Sherlock, because you didn't even let me respond!" John shouted. "And you did just fine without me before!"

"That was _before_!" Sherlock yelled, and without further explanation, he stomping off to his usual spot on the sofa.

John placed his face into his hands. He didn't know what to do and suddenly felt very overwhelmed. Sensing this, Greg slid his chair closer and put an arm around his lover "Just ignore him. He's just trying to be difficult."

John instead just ignored his boyfriend's attempt to comfort him and took his hands away from his face to glare at Sherlock. "Why were you in my bed this morning?" he demanded suddenly.

Sherlock turned around quickly with an innocent expression on his face. During his brief moment of hesitation and the briefest glimpse of fear in his eyes, Greg admired his acting skills. "I wasn't," he said too quickly.

"Don't lie," John told him patiently.

Sherlock, sensing that John was really upset, changed his tune. "I was bored," he shrugged with mock indifference.

John realized then that Sherlock himself didn't even know why he did it, so he simply nodded and went back to finishing his breakfast. "Fine."

The rest of the day went on like it normally might. Greg went to Scotland Yard, John went to the Clinic, and Sherlock… moped all day on the sofa.

Greg didn't make it home until late, and by the time he got home, John was already in bed and Sherlock was no where to be found. He had almost expected Sherlock to be curled up beside his lover again, but now the empty sheets next to John made the bed seem strangely empty. He shrugged off his clothes and slipped in beside John carefully as to not wake him.

John moaned when he half woke to feel his lover dipping into bed. His hands reached out to feel him. "Hi," he mumbled into his chest.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Greg said, kissing him gently.

"It's okay. You can wake me," John mumbled.

"Everything go alright while I was at work?" Greg asked, wondering if John had to deal with Sherlock and his strange moods or if the other man had taken off to wherever he went without John.

"He won't speak to me," John mumbled sadly, wrapping his arms around his lover and not yet bothering to open his eyes. "How was work?" he asked as if he didn't really care.

"You know there was nothing interesting if you weren't called in," Greg answered. "He will come around, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," John told him a little defensively. "I'm with you. You are who I worry about."

Greg raised an eyebrow at that. "I know you're with me, but he's still your friend and… in his mind at least, you are his only friend."

John didn't want to talk any longer about it. He had to pull Greg closer. "Let's go to sleep," he sighed.

Greg sighed after him, knowing there was still more to say, but after the day he had just had he was willing to let it go and get some sleep instead. John kissed him gently on the lips before he turned around to press his back to the other man's chest. A few minutes later, both men were snoring softly.

At some time in the early morning, Greg woke to see they had once again acquired their guest sometime during the night. This time, Sherlock was sandwiching John in between himself and Greg.

The detective rolled his eyes and reached over to wake John gently. He wanted him to see for himself.

John grumbled in his sleep and refused to wake, his half hard cock evident enough of why. Greg wondered what would happen if he were to just get up and walk away. Sherlock would probably sneak out before John woke up and they would all go back to pretending like nothing was happening. Yet Greg had ruined his marriage doing the very same thing and he wasn't going to repeat his mistakes with John... or Sherlock. They both meant too much to him.

So instead of running, Greg let his hand slip down into his lover's pajama pants to grasp his cock.

John felt the warm tightness around him and gasped, arching into the warm body closest to him. He was awake, but barely, and he didn't yet open his eyes even when his lips broke out with a lazy smile.

Greg kissed John's neck before he whispered in his ear, "_If you wake up, I'll fuck you nice and slow_."

John woke up quickly after that and smiled again as he pressed his ass firmly against his lover's erection. When he finally opened his eyes, he was startled to see Sherlock was sleeping so close to him and he gasped loudly.

"You see why you have to be quiet?" he heard Greg tease.

John panicked and instantly grabbed his lover's arm to stop him. "_Greg_," he whispered, but the sudden shiver that ran through him excited him and his grip lessened. "I can't be quiet," he whispered again.

"Do you want to wake him up?" Greg murmured huskily.

John was suddenly torn between saying yes and no, but instead, he just moaned and spread his legs around Greg, his back against his chest. "Just fuck me," he mumbled shamefully.

Greg already had his fingers lubed and was slipping them down the back of John's pajama pants as if he had anticipated this all along. His finger found his ass and easily slipped inside. John whimpered quietly and spread his legs as wide as he could and opened his eyes again to gaze at Sherlock's sleeping form. His shaky hand reached out to slide down the other man's clothed chest.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open at John's touch, and for a moment, he just stared into John's eyes until he seemed to realize just what was happening under the covers and his eyes widened even if the rest of his expression did not change. Greg took that moment to push his cock into John's tight heat.

John was not expecting it, but his body was ready and accepted his cock easily. His grip tightened on Sherlock's shirt as he closed his eyes and cried out as he was so suddenly filled and his body arched.

Sherlock knew the mechanics of sex, but he had never experienced it first hand. He was a bit startled when John suddenly cried out and his hand covered John's automatically.

"He's alright," Greg said, understanding Sherlock's concern. "He loves this."

To prove it, John impatiently rocked back against Greg's cock, and with his hand still on Sherlock's chest, he turned his head to capture his boyfriend's lips in a messy kiss. Sherlock watched the exchange closely. He wanted to know more, to see more. He wanted to know exactly what was making John moan like that.

Greg pulled back from the kiss and braced himself to thrust hard enough into John to push his body right into Sherlock. John cried out again, this time as his lover thrust deep enough and _just right_. Given the complicated angle, his cock hit that spot inside of him that had the tip of his own erection leaking steadily and all the nerves in his body sizzle like they were too close to a flame.

"Fuck yes!" he gasped, his body tightening and moving against the solidity of Sherlock's body. His mind dissolved into the pleasure and he could think of nothing else. "_Fuck, right there_..."

Greg reached around John's slim waist to grasp his neglected cock. He set a hard but steady pace for a few minutes and lost himself in the feeling of John, forgetting all about their guest until he opened his eyes to find Sherlock still watching them closely.

He wanted to tell Sherlock to kiss John, to keep his mouth busy while he fucked him, but he knew this was a precarious situation and one wrong move could ruin everything. So he suddenly pulled out of John and flipped him roughly onto his back so he could watch his face as he made him come.

John loved to be manhandled during sex and he knew his lover knew it. "Fuck... back inside," he demanded immediately and spread his knees wide to position his hand to guide his lover's cock back to his entrance.

"So demanding," Greg teased as he pushed back inside. Sherlock moved closer so that now his head rested on the pillow beside John's head as he continued to watch his expression curiously.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Sherlock randomly asked John.

John was surprised by the sound of Sherlock's sudden, deep voice in his ear as Greg began to pick up a rough but still steady pace. John whimpered and arched his back in attempt to take his lover in deeper. At first, he didn't think he had the capacity to speak, much less about that particular question.

"At first... a little bit... _god_... It's a good hurt," he said up to Greg.

Greg grinned down at him. "Our John likes it a bit rough."

John reached behind him to grab the headboard and brace himself for Greg's thrusts, his other hand steady on his lover's chest to feel it rise and fall quickly. "_Please_," he pleaded.

Greg then finally let go of his self-control and began pounding into his lover, fisting John's cock in time with his thrusts and concentrating on bringing his lover off before he himself came. John threw his head back and cried out, his knuckles white on the headboard as he felt his body tense like a rubber band ready to snap. He could practically feel Sherlock's intense blue eyes on him and it only brought him that much closer to the edge.

"_I'm gonna come._.." he whimpered, and when he felt Greg's cock brush against his prostate over and over, he began to lose his breath. "_Right there!_" he shouted right before he clenched down on his lover, arched his back, and came all over his chest.

John felt his body convulse with pleasure again when Lestrade thrust one last time and filled him with come. "Don't pull out yet..." John panted, pulling his lover down into a messy kiss. His hands tangled in Greg's graying hair, the dull ache of his softening cock still inside of him. Eventually, Greg pulled away to kiss his forehead affectionately.

"How often do you two have sex?" Sherlock questioned, stirring them both out of their post-coital bliss. Greg chuckled into John's neck.

John, suddenly becoming self conscious, pushed gently at Greg to slip out of him. "All the time, I guess," he confessed.

Greg gently pulled out and lay on John's other side. "Why do you ask?" Sherlock didn't look like he was going to answer. "Did you like watching us?" Greg asked instead.

"It was interesting."

John suddenly turned bright red, hastily pulled a sheet over himself, and stood from the bed. He didn't make eye contact with either of them as he announced, "I have to shower."

Sherlock watched him leave and Greg smiled.

"He's embarrassed." Sherlock pointed out unnecessarily.

"Deduced that all by yourself, did you?" Greg teased sarcastically.

Sherlock shot him a look and Greg laughed.

THE END.


End file.
